


Enjoy The Silence

by stjaninaro



Category: Depeche Mode
Genre: Gen, Mental Health Issues, Use of prescription drugs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-12
Updated: 2014-02-12
Packaged: 2018-01-12 03:53:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1181563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stjaninaro/pseuds/stjaninaro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The boys get snowed in over Christmas, and cabin fever starts to set in...</p>
<p>From an Xmas Fic Exchange prompt: The whole band is stuck somewhere for Christmas – snowed in while recording in Berlin, stuck in bad weather while touring, something like that. They all miss their families terribly, but they find a way to make the best of it, just the four of them. Can take place in any time period, as long as it’s while Alan’s with the band.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on LiveJournal in January 2011.

**Part 1**  
  
***   
  
“Charlie, come on man, let’s just go back!”  
  
“No! I’m not being cooped up in there any longer. It’s been five days Dave, we have to do something!” Alan shouted back, though it was hard to hear him through the whirling, screeching wind. Dave was already having trouble seeing him through the wild, flurries of snow.   
  
Exasperated, he turned back to Martin and Andy, hugging themselves and shivering a few steps behind him. “Stupid bastard! Does he really think we want to be here any more than he does?!”  
  
Martin coughed and shook his head. “You know what he’s like Dave.” Reaching up a gloved hand, he tugged his hat further down over his eyes. They’d been outside for over an hour now, and Martin looked about ready to collapse. Dave saw Andy watching the smaller man with concern, and caught his gaze, indicating with a slight tilt of his head that he should get him back indoors as quickly as possible.  
  
Nodding, Andy grabbed hold of Martin’s hand. “Come on Mart, let’s just go back to the studio. We’re not getting anywhere, and there’s no point in us all dying of hypothermia just because Alan’s a stubborn git.”  
  
Martin sniffled again. “We can’t leave him out here on his own.”  
  
“Don’t worry about it Mart, I’ll go after him and bring him back. If I have to throw him over my shoulder and carry him to do it.” Dave said, laying a hand on his shoulder. “You go on back and stick the kettle on for us.”  
  
“You’d better hurry before you lose him Dave, I can barely see him anymore.” Andy frowned, peering into the blank whiteness in front of him.   
  
“That’s cos you don’t have your glasses on And.” Dave chuckled, before turning around to look at where Alan  _used_  to be. “Oh shit!”  
  
Dave took off after him , running, or rather stumbling, through the snow to try catch up to Alan before they lost him completely. “Charlie! Charlie you bastard, stop!”  
  
He reached out and grabbed hold of his elbow, twirling him around so suddenly Alan lost his balance, slipping on the snow and landing heavily on his knee. “Ow! What the fuck was that for?”  
  
“You wouldn’t stop.” Dave replied. “Here, get up before you freeze, and let’s go back to the studio. We’re getting nowhere.” He held out a hand to haul Alan to his feet.  
  
“It can’t be that much further. If we just keep heading south-west we’ll be-”  
  
“Alan. We’re in the middle of a fucking blizzard. I don’t know which way is up, let alone south bloody west. You could be walking north for all you know. We  _have_ to go back. We’ll try again Charlie, when it clears up a bit.” Dave interrupted, tugging Alan back in the direction they’d come. He hoped. He hadn’t been kidding, he really didn’t know which way they were going at all. Hopefully there hadn’t been enough snow to completely cover up their footprints.  
  
Biting his lip in frustration, Alan glanced around him before reluctantly nodding, and following Dave back to the studio. He flexed his fingers, making sure they were still able to move. He’d been doing it compulsively since they stepped outside. His biggest fear was losing the use of his fingers, and frostbite was definitely about to become a factor out here in the Danish countryside.  
  
They trudged along in silence for a while, keeping their heads pressed down against the wind. Alan’s knee was starting to throb painfully, and he absently rubbed at it with his hand, cursing as the movement exposed part of his wrist to the biting cold. Dave was watching him out of the corner of his eye, just making sure that he was indeed following and not about to change his mind and turn back into the blizzard. This was their fourth failed attempt at trying to reach the nearest town, and Alan had been suffering increasingly from cabin fever.  
  
It was strange. Out of all of them, Alan was the last person Dave would have expected to be bothered at being trapped in the studio. He was the one who spent the most time there as it was, and only a week before he’d been complaining about how far behind schedule they were. Surely this was the perfect opportunity for them to get caught up a bit?  
  
Dave let out a sigh of relief as he spotted the familiar red-tiled roof of the studio. He hadn’t got them lost after all. Even Alan picked up the pace at the sight, craving warmth and a nice cup of tea. He absentmindedly flexed his fingers again. They were getting stiffer.  
  
Pushing open the door, Dave stamped his feet to get the snow off of his boots before kicking them off and making straight for the radiator. He sat down on the floor beside it, back pressed against the heated metal and almost moaned in delight at the flood of warmth through his body. “Thank fuck for that. I thought I was going to freeze to death,” He looked over at Alan who was removing his coat and scarf, hanging them neatly on the pegs on the wall. “What about you Al? Feels better already eh?”  
  
Alan snorted. “Sure Dave, whatever you say.” He turned away and stalked down the narrow hallway to the kitchen. He hadn’t taken his gloves off.  
  
Dave stared after him in shock. Sure Alan had his grouchy moments, quite a lot of them actually, and quite often, but outright rudeness was very out of character for him. Especially directed at Dave. Usually if Alan was going to be snarky with anyone it was Fletch. Or Mart if he was being a bit belligerent in the studio.  
  
Pushing himself to his feet, Dave stripped off his coat and gloves, leaving them in a pile beside the radiator to dry out. He walked slowly down the hallway and poked his head into the kitchen. He smiled, relieved to see Martin and Andy sitting the table, steaming mugs of hot chocolate nestled in their hands. “Alright lads?” He said, sitting down and accepting a mug gratefully. “Where’s Charlie?”  
  
Andy rolled his eyes. “He came, he went. I don’t know what’s up with him, but I wish he’d snap out of it. The attitude’s getting on my nerves.”  
  
“Yeah I know what you mean. It’s not like him.” Dave agreed, shaking his head sadly.  
  
“He hasn’t even set foot in the studio since Thursday,” Martin said, “I asked him last night if he wanted to try fixing the main riff on ‘Policy’, and he just looked at me like I was mad.”  
  
“Fuck.” Dave said. “Bet you’re glad you popped over for a visit, eh And?”  
  
“Thrilled.” Andy replied in a deadpan tone. “My lovely supposed-to-be two day trip to see how things were going and now I’m stuck with you lot for god knows how long.”  
  
Martin looked worriedly at him. “You’re feeling ok though right? The doc didn’t think it was a bad idea for you to come did he?”  
  
“Nah, he thought it’d be good for me. Grainne wasn’t so sure, she thought it might bring back all the stress.” Andy smiled at him ruefully. “Of course, she’ll say she was right that I shouldn’t have come now that it looks like we’re stuck here for Christmas.”  
  
Dave huffed out a weak laugh. “Yeah, Jo’s not happy about that either. She put Jack on the phone to me yesterday. I felt so bad that I wouldn’t be home to play Santa for him. He loved that last year, when I got the costume and the beard and everything. He kept yankin’ at it, trying to pull it off.”  
  
“Awh cute. He must be getting big now Dave, I haven’t seen him in ages.” Martin said, getting up from the table to refill the kettle for more hot chocolate. “Suz has been on at me about wanting to have a baby, and I keep having to tell her to wait. I mean I want one too, but I’m hardly ever home.” He sighed heavily, “How do you do it Dave?”  
  
Dave shrugged. “I dunno Mart. I should be home more, helping Jo out, but what can I do? I  _have_ to be here to record the album, and I  _have_ to go on tour, and do all the publicity crap. I know I  _should_  be there, that they should be the priority, but this is the only way I know to support them. I can’t do anything else.”  
  
The three men lapsed into silence, broken only by the whistling of the kettle as it finished boiling. Andy got up and rinsed out their mugs, measuring out the cocoa powder and milk, before setting them back down on the table. A noise at the open doorway startled them and they all looked up to see Flood leaning against the frame, watching them with an amused expression.   
  
“Well, you lot are a cheery bunch.”  
  
Dave rolled his eyes and stood up. Nothing ever seemed to bother Flood, other than someone messing about with his equipment of course. He was almost as bad as Alan in that regard.  _Almost_.  
  
Speaking of whom...  
  
“Here Flood, drink this for me would you?” He said, handing him his mug. “I’m going to go check on Al, make sure he hasn’t tried to escape through a window or something.”  
  
“Oh cheers mate. Saves me having to make one myself.” Flood flopped down in Dave’s chair, immediately drawing Martin into a conversation about an idea he’d had for one of the songs. Dave thinks he hears mention of ‘Dangerous’, and grins. He’d really enjoyed recording that one.  
  
“Good luck mate.” Andy smirked. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you about entering the lion’s den. If you come out of there in one piece I’ll be amazed.”  
  
“Ah fuck off Fletch. He’s not that bad.”  
  
Andy just looks at him.  
  
“Ok, so maybe he is, but there has to be a reason, and I’m going to find out what it is.” Dave frowned as Andy just waved him away, turning back to the table to join in the conversation. Dave winced as he distinctly heard him say ‘There should be a trombone in the intro.’  
  
 _A trombone? For fuck sake Andy..._  
  
He shook his head and made his way up the back staircase to where their bedrooms were. The rooms were surprisingly nice here, simple but very comfortable. When Dave had gotten into bed that first night, he’d almost moaned aloud. It had been like being enveloped in a soft, fluffy cloud.   
  
He stopped off in his own room first, wanting to put on another pair of socks. His toes were still feeling a bit numb from earlier, and to be honest, all Dave really wanted to do right at that moment was crawl underneath the bedcovers and curl up into a little ball. He hated being cold, it was just about the worst thing in the world to him. There was nothing good about cold; it froze up his joints, made him generally feel miserable,  _and_ worst of all, if it got into his throat, it completely screwed up his voice.  
  
Dave pulled on his socks –two extra woolly pairs, just to be safe, and lay back on the soft covers. Closing his eyes, he relaxed. Now that his body had thawed out a bit he was starting to feel the effects of battling through the deep snow drifts and strong gusts of wind, his muscles were aching, and he felt like he’d just finished a two hour show.  
  
***   
  
He woke up three hours later, curled on his side and clutching the duvet tightly in his fist. Sitting up, he shook his head sharply to rid it of any remnants of the horrible dreams that had plagued his sleep. Dreams of Jack forgetting who he was after a long tour, dreams of going on stage and realising his voice was gone.  _Dreams of Alan leaving forever..._  
  
Those dreams had terrified him most.  
  
Dave glanced over at the clock on the bedside table, the flashing red lights clearly visible in the dim light of the room. 7pm.  _‘Fuck! I meant to go check on Charlie hours ago!’_  
  
Shuffling to the edge of the bed, Dave slowly stood up, taking a minute to stretch out the cramped muscles in his neck. He was halfway to the door when he stopped suddenly. His shirt was sticking to him, nervous sweat from his disturbed sleep making it damp and clingy. He wrinkled his nose, and sighed, reaching up to undo the buttons and peeling the moist fabric from his shoulders. Picking up the shirt he’d worn the day before from the heap of dirty laundry sitting on the floor, he quickly shucked into it, not bothering with undoing the buttons, and instead just slipped it over his head.  
  
Dave closed his bedroom door softly behind him. There was a strange stillness in the air, a silence rarely heard in the studio, and Dave found himself reluctant to break it.   
  
He was standing outside Alan’s door in less than four steps, hand poised to knock on the freshly painted white wood. He let his knuckles fall gently on the hard wood, wincing at the loud noise. “Al?” He whispered.  
  
No response.  
  
“Alan?” He said again, a little louder, and this time he thought he heard movement coming from inside. He knocked again. “Al, it’s Dave. Can I come in?”  
  
He was about to turn away and go downstairs, an inexplicable hurt spreading across his chest at Alan’s silence, when he heard the faintest response.   
  
“Come on in Dave.”  
  
Dave pressed down lightly on the handle and the door swung open. Alan’s room was dark, darker than Dave’s had been, and for a moment Dave couldn’t find Alan. He spotted him sitting in the armchair by the big, bay window, legs curled up underneath him, and his arms wrapped securely around his middle.   
  
He looked so alone.  
  
Shutting the door behind him , Dave moved to sit on the edge of the bed nearest his friend. He didn’t say anything for a long while, just sat and watched Alan gazing, unblinking, out across the snow-covered countryside. Looking, but not seeing.  
  
“You alright Al?” Dave asked after a while, frowning in concern. It wasn’t like Alan to sit still and silent for so long. He was always  _doing_  something.  
  
When Alan spoke his voice was hoarse, as if it had been years since he’d last used it. “I’m fine Dave.”  
  
He turned around to face him then, untucking his legs from beneath himself and swinging around to set them on the floor. He rubbed his hands together, face still turned towards the floor. Clenching his fists to still the movement, he looked up. “I’m sorry... about earlier. I was an arse.”  
  
“Yeah you were mate.” Dave replied, smiling as Alan glared at the interruption.  
  
“I was an arse,” he repeated, “and I just... Fuck, Dave I just want to go home.”  
  
“We all do Charlie. But there’s no point going and getting lost in a blizzard and probably freezing to death. We’ll get home eventually, yeah?”  
  
“Yeah.” Alan flashed him a tiny smile, barely a crinkle at the corner of his mouth really.  
  
He stood up, stretching his arms over his head. He groaned quietly as his back cracked, showing just how long he’d spent hunched over in the chair.   
  
“Fuck Al, how long were you sitting there?” Dave frowned.  
  
Alan shrugged. “How long have we been back?”  
  
“About four hours. You’ve been sitting there that whole time?” Dave asked, incredulously. “You must be freezing!”  
  
“I’m more hungry than cold.” Alan said, heading for the door. Looking back at Dave over his shoulder, he raised an eyebrow. “You coming? I’m gonna stick on a pizza or something if you want to share.”  
  
“Sounds good. Is there any of that garlic bread Sven made before he went home left in the fridge?” Dave said as he ducked out of the room under Alan’s arm. Alan shut the door behind them and they walked down the dark hallway to the stairs.   
  
“Unless Andy got to it, there should be some left.” Alan replied. “Where are the others anyway?”  
  
“Dunno mate. Last I saw they were sitting at the kitchen table drinking hot chocolate. Oh and get this! Fletch reckons we need a trombone in the intro for Dangerous.” Dave laughed loudly, clapping a hand on Alan’s shoulder to keep his balance on the rickety stairs.  
  
Alan rolled his eyes. “Fletch is an idiot.”  
  
“Ah be nice Charlie.” Dave said as they stepped into the kitchen. “You know he hasn’t been well recently.”  
  
“His idiocy isn’t a recent development, Dave.”  
  
Dave opened his mouth to reply, but shut it as soon as he realised he couldn’t come up with a suitable argument. He caught sight of Alan’s teasing half-grin and playfully slapped the back of his head. “He’s been an idiot about as long as you’ve been a cranky old fucker. Only he hasn’t been half as bad as you lately.”   
  
He moved away to hoist himself up onto the counter. “So come on Charlie, spill. What’s got your knickers all in a twist the last few days?”  
  
Alan’s smile immediately disappeared, and he turned to open the freezer, bending down to root through the shelves. The tension in his shoulders was blindingly obvious, and Dave could have kicked himself. He knew better than to prod Alan when he clearly didn’t want to talk about something.   
  
“I’ll... just go see if Mart, Andy and Flood want something to eat too then...” He said, trailing off as Alan simply nodded, back still turned to him.  
  
Sighing quietly, he slipped off the counter and headed down the hall to the sitting area, where loud bangs and occasional muttered curses hinted at some sort of video game being played. Sure enough, just as he stepped into the room Martin flung down his controller and folded his arms in a huff. “This game is shit!”  
  
“It’s not the games fault you’re crap at it, Mart.” Andy laughed, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. “Relax.”  
  
“You try it then if you’re so good!” Mart said, picking up the controller and thrusting it in Andy’s direction. “But I’m telling you, it is  _impossible_ to get past that giant alien thing. It’s too bloody fast.”  
  
“Maybe you’re just too slow Mart.”  
  
Their heads whipped around at the sound of Dave’s voice. He was leaning casually against the doorframe, arms folded loosely across his chest as he watched the action on screen. Despite his playful tone, the smile on his face didn’t quite reach his eyes.  
  
“Ah he lives!” Andy exclaimed, throwing up his hands. “Thank the Lord. So tell me Dave, how did you do it? How did you manage to escape the Abominable Alan unscathed?”  
  
Dave rolled his eyes and sighed, coming to sit in the armchair opposite them. Instead of answering, he stared into the fireplace, watching the sparks leap through the smoke and wink out, like stars disappearing behind a blanket of cloud.   
  
“Dave?” Martin asked, “Is everything alright? There’s nothing seriously wrong with Charlie is there?”  
  
“Hmm?” Dave raised his head to see Martin’s worried frown. “Oh no, mate, he’s fine... he’s just... I dunno. He was ok when I was talking to him earlier and then I had to go and open my stupid gob and ask him what was wrong, and then he just completely shut me out again. I don’t know what to do with him.”  
  
He sighed heavily, rubbing his hands roughly over his face. “Fuck it.” He said suddenly, “He knows he can trust me and if he doesn’t want to, then that’s his problem, not mine. Now, d’you two fancy some dinner?”  
  
Andy’s eyes lit up. “Now you’re talking!”  
  
“Pizza and garlic bread sound alright?” asked Dave, standing up to go help Alan in the kitchen again. “Where’s Flood? I’d better ask if he wants some too.”  
  
“Flood had that leftover lasagne a little while ago.” Martin replied, “And I think he said something about getting an early night...”  
  
Dave raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “An early night? It’s not even 8 yet! What the hell is he doi-” He noticed Martin’s suggestive smirk, and grinned. “Ah, I see. We’d best leave him alone so.”  
  
Chuckling he turned to leave only to be stopped by Andy clearing his throat. “Uh Dave?”  
  
“Yeah And?”  
  
“About the garlic bread...”  
  
*** 


	2. Chapter 2

**Part 2**  
  
***   
  
Alan looked up as Dave returned to the kitchen grumbling under his breath. “I couldn’t find the garlic bread.”  
  
“Course you didn’t.” Dave scowled. “You didn’t check Fletch’s bottomless pit of a stomach.”  
  
Alan chuckled before ripping open the three pizza boxes he’d left neatly stacked on the table and putting them in the oven. Dave looked at him, surprised to see his bad mood apparently gone. Biting his tongue, he leaned back against the counter to observe his friend. The tension was still evident in the way he was holding himself, but for now at least he looked to be making an effort at being more friendly than he had been in the last few days.  
  
“So.” Alan said, turning back to him. “What do you want to do tonight?”  
  
Dave shrugged. “Don’t mind. Maybe stick on a movie or something?”  
  
“Sounds good.”  
  
They lapsed into a comfortable silence, waiting for the food to cook. Dave busied himself with trying to find a decent bottle of wine in the rack, putting on a fake snobby accent as he read the labels. “Ah, Cabernet Sauvignon, with hints of eucalyptus and mint, that has been teabagged with oak chips and tobacco to give it a round flavour.”  
  
Alan was looking out the window, chuckling quietly, when Dave wrinkled his nose and said, “I’m not sure I want to drink anything that’s been involved in ‘teabagging’.”  
  
“What about that Merlot with the nosegay of hollyhocks and an undertone of freshly mowed grass soaked in petrol? I thought that sounded lovely.” Alan replied, not quite able to keep a straight face.   
  
“Oh yes, of course! That should bring out the flavour of the dough very nicely. A perfect accompaniment to any Italian dish.” Dave replied in a snooty tone, sticking his nose even further into the air.  
  
They collapsed in a fit of laughter, leaning on each other to remain upright. When they had regained their composure, Dave wiped away a tear from the corner of his eye, still giggling every now and again. He took a deep breath and suddenly turned to the oven. “Shit Charlie! The pizzas!”  
  
Alan flung open the oven door and a puff of black smoke filled the room. He grabbed a teatowel and reached in to pull out the trays. The pizza’s were blackened and crispy, but thankfully still edible. Just.   
  
They loaded up two trays with the pizzas, both bottles of wine, a couple of glasses, and a salad that Alan had quickly thrown together, and made their way to the sitting room where Martin and Andy were waiting.  
  
“I can smell food!” They heard Andy before they were even halfway down the hall. Alan rolled his eyes as Dave pushed open the door with his shoulder, a broad grin on his face.  
  
“Well, now we know if the album doesn’t do well we can always start renting Fletch out as a sniffer dog.” Martin laughed. “What’s the range on that nose of yours?”  
  
Andy flared his nostrils and inhaled deeply. “Hmm... Flood only ate half of that lasagne he brought upstairs with him. He left the...” He inhaled again, and paused, “... white sauce and pasta, only ate the meat out of it. What a waste!”  
  
Dave laughed and cuffed him across the back of the head. “You’re not allowed to go up there and steal his leftovers Fletch. He’s having ‘private time’ remember?”  
  
Fletch frowned. “But it’s such a waste! The white sauce is the best part!”   
  
Alan looked up from where he’d made himself comfortable on a beanbag in front of the fire, a blank look on his face. “White sauce eh, Fletch? And here I thought you were as straight a bloke as they come...”  
  
It took a moment for the penny to drop. When he finally realised what Alan had meant, Fletch’s face went through a startling array of disgusted expressions until he managed a choked “Fuck off!”  
  
Dave and Martin roared with laughter.  
  
“Oh god And, the look on your face!”  
  
Andy threw them both a scathing look before turning to look at Alan’s smug smile. “I see you’re back to your charming acerbic self.”  
  
“I know how much you love my quick wit Fletch, I just couldn’t bear to deprive you of it for a moment longer.” Alan replied, his smile turning from smug to sweet in the blink of an eye. He even threw in a light eyelash fluttering.  
  
“You’re a bastard, Wilder”  
  
“Yeah yeah,” Alan chuckled. “Shut up and eat your pizza.”  
  
“No! I’m not done cursing your name ye- Mmph!”  
  
Andy had been so busy glaring at Alan he’d failed to notice Dave sneaking up behind him, or Martin’s hysterical giggles as Dave put their plan into action. He pulled the lever on Andy’s chair to make it suddenly recline, leaving him staring up at Dave’s manic grin as he unceremoniously shoved a full slice of pizza into his mouth.  
  
“Mmmf!”  
  
Dave slid to the floor, clutching his stomach as tears of laughter streamed down his face. Alan joined in with Martin’s laughter, enjoying the sight of Fletch flailing around on his back like an upturned turtle. Eventually, Andy managed to pull himself upright and fix his chair, face purple with exertion and panting heavily.  
  
Amazingly, he’d eaten every bite of the pizza.  
  
“What. The. Bloody hell was that for?!” He choked out, eyes wide in confusion.  
  
Dave looked up at him where he’d collapsed on the floor with an evil smirk. “ _That_ was for eating my garlic bread.”  
  
“You tried to kill me over garlic bread?!”  
  
Martin rolled his eyes, and pressed a hand to Andy’s chest to prevent him lunging for Dave. “In fairness And, you chased him around Hansa with a broom because he ate one of your crisps.  _One crisp_ , not even a whole packet.”  
  
Fletch looked indignantly at him. “Do you know how hard it is to get proper Prawn Cocktail crisps in Berlin?”  
  
“God Fletch, does it involve the unthinkable hardship of walking to a supermarket?” Alan asked, leaning back on one elbow and taking a dainty sip from his wine glass. “I can’t imagine how difficult that must be for you...”  
  
Fletch threw him a withering glance, but before he could retort Dave stepped in. “Alright lads, quit it before things turn nasty yeah? We’re having a nice night, let’s not ruin it for ourselves.”  
  
He looked at each of them in turn. Alan simply nodded, chewing on a stringy piece of cheese from his pizza. It took Fletch a moment, but one pleading glance from Dave was enough to have him nod his agreement as well. Nice nights with just the four of the them had been in short supply the past few months. Tensions during recording, and Andy’s illness not helping to keep the band the cohesive unit it had once been.  
  
Letting out a quiet sigh, Dave exchanged a relieved smile with Mart and turned on the tv. “Shall we stick on a video?”  
  
“Sure. What have we got Dave?” Mart asked.  
  
“Eh...” Dave opened the cupboard doors on the tv unit. “Not a lot, I’m afraid. We’ve got some film in Danish, looks like a lovey-dovey one.” He wrinkled his nose, holding up a case with a floppy fringed blonde man cradling a suitably attractive woman.  
  
Andy’s eyes widened in horror. “Is that it?! I’m not watching anything with subtitles!”  
  
“ _That’s_ your problem with it?” Martin asked, frowning. “Have you seen the Simon Le Bon lookalike on the cover?!”  
  
Andy and Alan’s faces wore identical expressions of revulsion, and at precisely the same time, they both spat, “Fat fucker,” under their breaths. Their eyes met, and they shared a   
moment of bonding over their mutual hatred of the high-pitched singer.  
  
“What about this?” Dave asked, holding up another tape. “Field of Dreams. That came out this year didn’t it?”  
  
“Is that the one with whats-his-name... Costner in it? Something about baseball.” Andy asked, reaching for another slice of pizza.  
  
Alan took a long drink, draining his wineglass. “Oh just stick it on Dave. As long as it’s in English and means I don’t have to think for a couple of hours, it’s perfect.”  
  
“Righteo.”  
  
Dave popped the video into the machine and pressed play. He stood up and made his way back to his spot on the couch beside Martin, refilling everyone’s wineglass as he went.  
  
Forty minutes later the power went, plunging the room into total darkness.  
  
“What the f-”  
  
“What the hell just happened?”  
  
“Thank fuck for that!”  
  
Three heads swivelled to stare at Alan, illuminated by the light of the fire. “Al?”  
  
“Don’t tell me you were enjoying that piece of crap?! I thought I was going to have to gouge out my own eyes.” He groaned.   
  
“Al, did you do something to the power?” Martin tilted his head to the side, a look of confusion on his face. “How??”  
  
Alan and Dave exchanged a look of amused disbelief, and Dave reached over and tapped the side of Martin’s head gently with his knuckles.  
  
“What’s it like in that head of yours Mart?” He asked in a teasing tone, before chuckling as Martin brushed away his hand. “The blizzard must have knocked out the power Mart.”  
  
“Oh.” Martin blushed, suddenly glad of the darkness.  
  
Alan got up from the floor and tentatively made his way through the darkness to the sideboard. The other three could hear him opening various drawers and rattling the contents until he found what he was looking for and made his way back to his beanbag.   
  
Reaching into his pocket he pulled out a lighter and quickly lit the three candles he’d managed to find. He set them down on the coffee table between them, and leaned back, settling himself more comfortably in his seat.  
  
They sat in silence for a while, listening to the wood crackling and burning in the fireplace. It was nice, soothing even, and reminded Dave of that eerie stillness he’d felt upstairs. It had made him feel nervous earlier, but now, surrounded by his mates, he felt happy and content. He caught Alan’s eye and smiled, knowing his friend was thinking the exact same thing. It was a big difference to the cold and lonely man Dave had walked in on only hours before.  
  
Breaking the stillness, Andy stood up, stretching his arms high above his head. “Well lads, I reckon it’s time for bed. See you all in the morning.”  
  
“Hang on Fletch, I’ll come up with you. You’ll need to take one of the candles to see where you’re going.” Mart said, yawning as he stood.  
  
“Good point Mart.” Fletch replied, picking up the little tealight and holding it aloft. “Come on then, it’s freezing and I want my blankets.”  
  
“Night lads.” Dave called after them as they disappeared through the dark doorway into the even darker hallway beyond. He giggled as he heard Andy’s muffled curse as he obviously stubbed his toe on something.  
  
Turning back to the fire, he saw Alan gazing thoughtfully in the flames. “Alright Al? Not tired?”  
  
“Not really.”   
  
Dave caught a glimpse of a sad smile crossing Alan’s face before he turned to face him. “You?”  
  
“A little.”  
  
They lapsed into a comfortable silence, Dave watching Alan stare into the flames, grateful for the darkness. It was rare for Alan to allow himself to be seen in such a contemplative mood, almost vulnerable, and again Dave couldn’t help himself.  
  
“Charlie, is everything ok mate?”  
  
Alan looked up at him, surprised. He didn’t answer right away.  
  
When he finally spoke, he sounded tired, and much older than his thirty years. “Yeah. Everything’s... everything’s fine Dave.”  
  
“You sure?” Dave asked, a concerned frown wrinkling his forehead. “You know you can tell me anything and it’ll just be between us yeah?”  
  
“I know.” Alan replied in a quiet voice. He looked back at the fire.  
  
Dave knew not to push him any further. He’d been lucky to get even that much out of him; the slight stammer in Alan’s tone making it blatantly obvious that he really wasn’t as ok as he proclaimed to be.  
  
He stood up, resting his hand on Alan’s shoulder and squeezing lightly for a second. “Alright mate. I’m off to bed. Will you be alright getting to bed with that candle?”  
  
“Yeah, it’ll be grand. Good night Dave.”  
  
“Night Al.”  
  
Dave picked up the candle and carefully picked his way around the furniture. He was just about at the door when he heard Alan quietly call his name. “Dave?”  
  
He turned around, trying to see Alan’s face, but it was hidden in shadows. “Yeah Al?”  
  
There was a brief pause before Alan replied. “...Nothing. Goodnight.”  
  
Dave’s shoulders slumped. For a second he’d really thought Alan was going to open up to him. Swallowing past the lump of disappointment, he nodded in the darkness and quickly left the room, stumbling up the stairs to his bedroom.  
  
***


	3. Chapter 3

**Part 3**  
  
***  
  
When Dave woke a little while later it took him several moments to figure out why he wasn’t still happily dreaming of Bono being dragged off stage during a show by a rabid mob of flesh-starved zombies and eaten in front of his weeping drummer and a surprisingly triumphant looking bassist.   
  
He furrowed his brow, staring up at the blank ceiling. ‘ _What the fuck woke me up?’_  
  
The sound of a low, muffled thump came through the wall from Alan’s room.  _‘Ah’_ he thought, ‘ _that’s what it was_.’ Yawning, he rolled over and closed his eyes, intent on going back to sleep.  
  
*THUMP*  
  
He frowned and sat up, twisting around on the bed to glare at the wall.  _‘What the bloody hell’s he doing?!’_  
  
Dave reached over and flicked on the lamp just as a loud ‘BANG’ came from the next room. He leapt from the bed, pulling on his socks and running for the door before he even realised he was moving. No one else seemed to have heard the commotion, or if they had they hadn’t deemed it worthy of leaving the warm cocoon of their heavy blankets.  
  
He paused outside Alan’s door, listening hard for any hints of noise coming from within. There was always a chance he’d dreamed the whole thing and Alan was sleeping soundly in his bed. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d woken from a vivid dream and been convinced it was real life.  _‘The last thing he needs is me bursting in there and waking him up,’_  Dave thought, brow furrowed in indecision, _‘Especially with whatever’s been bothering him lately.’_  
  
Dave turned to go back to his own room when he heard what was clearly a heavy sash window being pushed up. Alan was definitely awake then, but why would he be opening a window in the middle of a blizzard?   
  
Frowning, Dave knocked on the door. “Al? You alright in there?”  
  
The screeches of the wooden window frame got louder. As if whoever was trying to open them was pushing harder at it in an attempt to open it faster.  
  
“Alan?!” Dave called, a hint of worry creeping into his voice. “Alan, open the door!”  
  
Martin’s bedroom door opened as Dave’s voice rose and his knocking increased in volume. Sleep-tousled curly blonde hair appeared around the frame, followed by bleary green eyes. “Dave, what the hell are you doing? It’s 4am for fucks sake!” Martin asked, struggling to suppress a yawn.  
  
Dave ignored him and continued to pound on Alan’s door. “Alan, open the door right the fuck now!”  
  
The screeching of the window frame suddenly stopped, and Dave held his breath, desperately hoping that Alan had come to whatever senses he had left, and was coming to open the door.   
  
Seconds ticked by. Dave’s frustration returned, and grew, fuelled by deep concern and fear for his friend. “That’s it.” He growled. “Stand back Mart,”  
  
Martin’s eyes widened. “What? What are you gonna do? Dave, what’s going on?”  
  
Dave took a step back from the door, considering his next move. With a loud yell, he raised his foot and levelled a strong kick at the door. “Ow! Fucking bastard, that hurt!”  
  
He grabbed his foot, gripping it tightly between his hands in an attempt to control the pain, as he hopped closer to the wall. “Fuck! Wilder I swear to god if I just broke my foot and you’re just sleepwalking, I’ll bloody well throw you under a truck, you hear me?!”  
  
Taking a deep breath, he gingerly returned his injured limb to the floor, testing his weight with it. It throbbed a bit, but otherwise it seemed fine. This time he thought about his course of action more carefully. Kicking down the door obviously wasn’t going to work, especially as he wasn’t wearing shoes, and he really didn’t have time to go put some on. Knocking was having no effect. So really his option was to try force it out of its frame with a well placed shoulder.   
  
Dave stepped back a few paces, readying himself to take a run up, when Martin walked up to Alan’s door and simply turned the handle.  
  
It swung open easily.  
  
“You’re an idiot Dave.”  
  
Dave flushed. He hadn’t even considered that the door might not be locked. “Yeah well...”  
He couldn’t think of any reply. He really was an idiot, and...  _‘What the fuck?!’_  
  
“Alan!”  
  
Dave had glanced into the room, half expecting to find Alan curled up safe and secure under his duvet, deeply asleep. What he wasn’t prepared for was to find himself confronted with a completely trashed room; cushions, blankets and clothes strewn across the floor, the armchair Dave had found Alan in earlier overturned and on the opposite side the room, and the phone lying in pieces on the floor beside the wall.   
  
The chaos and destruction paled into insignificance as he caught sight of Alan disappearing from view out the window, clad only in a light tshirt and boxers.   
  
“ALAN!”  
  
Dave ran to the window, Martin close behind, and leaned out. He gasped as the strength of the wind threatened to drag him out of the room. He could barely see through the snow, the flurries much, much worse than they had been the previous day. Alan was slowly making his way across the low roof he had landed on, his bare feet gripping the red tiles surprisingly well.  
  
Martin looked up at Dave aghast. “What the fuck is he doing?! He’ll be killed!”  
  
Shaking his head in stunned amazement, Dave continued to stare after his friend. He cried out as Alan suddenly reached the edge of the roof, gingerly feeling for the drainpipe before sitting down and swinging his legs out over the edge. He shuffled towards, and with a single backwards glance at the sound of Dave’s frightened scream, dropped over the side.  
  
 _“Alan!”_  
  
“I’m going to get Andy and Flood! Dave? Dave! Go and get dressed. We have to go after him.” Martin had him by the shoulders, shaking him firmly. Dave was aware of this, and yet he couldn’t quite seem to connect it with reality.   
  
All he could see in his mind was the look in Alan’s eyes in that split second they’d made eye contact. He’d never seen anything like it. Alan looked  _distraught_ , hysterical even, and so un-Alan like it was shocking. What could possibly have happened to not only take down all of Alan’s carefully constructed walls, but smash them to pieces and then some?! It was as if he’d been ripped apart from the inside out.  
  
“...Dave!” Martin was still shaking him when he snapped back to conscious thought.  
  
Pushing him towards the door, Dave said, “Go wake the others, quickly!”  
  
“What are you going to do?” Martin asked, as he backed out the door, already heading for Andy’s room.  
  
“I’m going after him.”  
  
Martin span around. “What?!”   
  
Dave grabbed one of Alan’s thick jumpers from the mess on the floor and pulled it over his head. Spying a pair of boots in the corner, he shoved his feet into them, and before Martin could stop him, Dave was climbing through the open window.   
  
Groaning, Martin flung open Fletch’s door. “Andy get up! We have to go after them!”  
  
“Wha? Go ‘fter who?” Andy mumbled, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.  
  
“Alan’s jumped out the fucking window an-”  
  
“Wait, Alan’s done what?! Why?!” Andy was wide awake now, and already out of bed, reaching for his clothes.  
  
“I don’t know. Dave woke me up hammering on his door, and when we got in, he was out the window. Half bloody naked! Andy, he’ll freeze out there!” Martin was getting frantic, his breath coming in short, jerky gasps.  
  
“Ok, it’s ok Mart.” Andy said, holding onto his shoulders and trying to calm him down. “Where’s Dave?”  
  
“Dave went out the window after him. Fletch we have to hurry!”  
  
“We will. I’ll go grab Flood. You get coats, hats, scarves, blankets, anything you can find. And light the fire. They’re going to need some serious warming up.” Andy said, slipping into his role of leader. It wasn’t one he relished, but Martin needed it from him right now.  
  
Glancing at the fierce storm raging outside the window, he did something he hadn’t done in a long time. He prayed.  
  
***   
  
The second Dave’s feet had landed on the snow-covered roof tiles he was sure he was going to die. His shoes could get no purchase, and he immediately began slipping and sliding as he attempted to safely reach the spot he’d last seen Alan. By the time he got there, he was on his hands and knees, inching forward as the wind gusted and threatened to pull him over the abyss.   
  
He peered over the edge. As far as he could remember, this section of the roof was over the kitchen, and only one storey high. He  _hoped_ it was only one storey high -he couldn’t see the ground through the blizzard. Tucking his chin close to his chest, he turned into the wind, swinging his legs over the side just as Alan had. Dave closed his eyes –he couldn’t remember how long it had been since Alan had disappeared, but considering his clothing, or lack thereof, he was probably already dangerously close to hypothermia at the least.  
  
Swallowing his fear, Dave let go and allowed himself to fall.   
  
The drop was mercifully short, and the ground was cushioned by a large snow drift. _‘Thank fuck for that,’_  Dave thought, scrambling to his feet. He peered round, squinting through the biting cold. Alan was nowhere to be seen.  
  
“ALAN!”  
  
Dave wrapped his arms tightly around himself and moved a few steps further from the relative shelter of the studio.  
  
“CHARLIE! COME ON MATE, WHERE ARE YOU?!”  
  
It was useless. Even if Alan had wanted to reply, Dave wouldn’t have been able to hear him over the howling of the wind, and the eerie squeaks and groans of the building behind him as it was battered by the elements.  
  
“ALAN?!”  
  
Tucking his hands under his armpits, Dave forced himself to think rationally. Panicking wasn’t going to help him find Charlie. He needed to try put himself in Alan’s head. Which way would he have gone?  
  
 _‘Assuming he’s even thinking straight at all.’_  Dave thought. ‘ _Sane people don’t usually jump out bloody windows.’_  He groaned. _‘Come on Dave, this is Charlie, he always knows what he’s doing.’_  
  
An idea suddenly sprang to mind.  
  
‘ _He’s been desperate to get to town. Why would that change? I bet that’s where he’s gone!’_  
  
Dave had to think for a moment. He knew the road to the town was nearly perfectly straight from the front of the studio. All he had to do was make his way round the large building till he found the front porch, and then, hopefully, he’d be able to follow a faint outline of the road. Even more hopefully, he might Alan.  
  
 _‘You’d better bloody well be ok Wilder.’_  
  
Keeping one hand on the wall, Dave started walking. It was slow going, the snow was already up to his knees, and the wind seemed to be increasing in strength as time went on. Eventually he pulled himself around the corner of the building. Here the wind wasn’t quite so bad, and he took a second to get his bearings, and his breath back.  
  
“Ok. Here we go.” Dave said, struggling to pull his leg through the layers of snow. His foot caught on something and he went down hard, twisting his ankle sharply. “Fuck!”  
  
He pushed himself to his knees, hands immediately turning bright red with the cold. They looked like beacons against the pristine whiteness. He stared at them for a moment.  _‘I need to find Alan now!’_  
  
He’d thought he was going to die when he’d fallen, the iciness of the snow instantly freezing him to the bone. And he’d only been down for a second. If it had affected him so badly, what was it doing to Alan?  
  
He picked up his pace, terror for his friend fuelling his aching body. By the time he made it to the gate, he was exhausted, and he had to cling to the wooden post to stay upright. Panting heavily, he scanned the area around him.  _Surely_ Alan couldn’t have made it much further than this...  
  
He hadn’t.  
  
***   
  
“Any sign of them Flood?”  
  
Flood turned to look into worried green eyes as Martin came up to stand beside him. “Nothing yet.”  
  
Staring out the window, Martin clenched his jaw. “We should be out there looking for them. What good is sitting here doing nothing?”  
  
He looked up as Flood clasped a heavy hand on his shoulder. “Dave’ll bring him back. If we went out there, we’d more than likely get lost, or freeze, and that’s definitely not going to help.”  
  
“Yeah but-”  
  
“Mart, Flood’s right.” The two men turned their gaze to Fletch who was crouching in front of the fireplace, feeding the flames into a proper blaze. “The best we can do is wait for Dave to bring Charlie back and have everything ready to get them warmed up as quick as possible.”  
  
Martin glanced back at the window. “I know... I just feel so helpless.”  
  
Silence descended on them, the only sound being the crackling of the wooden logs as the burned and shifted in the hearth.  
  
“I don’t understand something.” Flood suddenly said, frowning. “Why the hell would Alan jump out the window? I mean... I know he’s been a bit off lately, but I hadn’t thought it because he’d suddenly gone insane.”  
  
Andy sighed, running his hands over his head. “We don’t know. He wouldn’t tell anyone, wouldn’t even admit there  _was_ anything wrong. He wouldn’t even talk to Dave. Dave asked him and he just shut him down completely.”  
  
“Yeah but And, Alan’s never been that forthcoming about his problems. It’s just not his way.” Martin replied.  
  
“It’s not usually obvious he  _has_ a problem Mart. He just covers it up and gets on with things.” Fletch said. It was always something he’d admired, and envied, Alan for. His ability to simply get on with it. “Unlike now.”  
  
Nodding slowly, Martin turned back to the window. _‘Come on Dave. Bring him back. Bring the two of you back, safe.’_  
  
***


	4. Chapter 4

**Part 4**  
  
***  
  
“Charlie...”   
  
Dave stopped breathing at the sight of the huddled figure lying prone on the ground, a dark blot on the pristine whiteness. It wasn’t moving.  
  
“Charlie!”  
  
Dave was running before he even realised it, scrambling through the deep snow. He tripped and pushed himself back to his feet, intent on reaching Alan. He tripped again, and crawled the remaining few feet to where his friend lay, motionless and still.  
  
He collapsed back onto his knees, tugging Alan close to him. Running his hands over Alan’s body, he felt tears welling up in the back of his eyes. _‘Oh fuck Charlie...’_  
  
Brushing the thickening layer of white flakes from Alan’s body, Dave gasped. Alan’s skin was a frightening shade of pale, tinted blue everywhere Dave could see. His lips, fingers and toes were a shade of purple Dave had never seen before –and never wanted to see again.  
  
Dave quickly unzipped the thick jumper he’d put on in Alan’s room, gasping at the sudden blast of cold, and wrapped it around Alan’s chest. He struggled for a moment getting Alan’s arms into the sleeves. He was breathing heavily by the time he managed it, pain lacing every breath he took as the icy air attacked his lungs.  
  
He was sitting on the ground at this stage, his body gone strangely weak. He pulled Alan into his lap, tucking his head beneath his chin, and rubbing at every patch of exposed skin he could.   
  
Alan hadn’t so much as moved a muscle.  
  
“Come on Charlie, wake up. I need you to wake up. We have to get inside. Please, Charlie, please.”  
  
Tears were freezing on Dave’s cheeks. He pressed his hand to Alan’s chest, intending to shake him soundly until he stirred.   
  
 _‘Oh no... no no no no no no!’_  
  
He wasn’t breathing.  
  
“Fuck!”  
  
Dave threw his head back and screamed at the sky, tears streaming down his face. “Alan, come on mate.” He sobbed, “I need you to breathe for me. I  _need_ you to.... I need  _you_. Please. Please, don’t leave me.”  
  
Running his hands through his hair desperately, Dave screamed out in frustration and fear again. He buried his face in his hands, leaning forward and resting against Alan’s chest. Turning his head, he shifted slightly, his face coming to rest in the gap between Alan’s neck and the collar of his jumper.   
  
“Please Charlie.” Dave whispered, his lip trembling.  
  
Suddenly he felt it. It was weak, and altogether too slow for comfort, but it was there. A pulse. Proof he hadn’t lost his best friend just yet.  
  
“Thank god.” Dave breathed, clutching Alan even tighter. “Thank god.”  
  
Dave ran a hand over Alan’s face, brushing a stray lock of hair from his eyes. “Oh Charlie, Charlie you’re ok. You’re ok mate.” He didn’t know who he was trying to comfort more; Alan or himself. His fingers trailed over the deathly white cheeks, Alan’s skin nearly burning him he was so cold. He felt the barest whisper of heat against his palm –Alan’s breath.  
  
He shut his eyes tightly, trying to stop the tears of relief spilling over his cheeks and freezing on his skin. Dave kept his hand over Alan’s mouth, the scant warmth of his exhalations the only thing keeping Dave together.   
  
It occurred to him that although Alan was alive, he was still in danger. His body temperature was obviously far too low, and his extremities would soon be subject to frostbite if Dave didn't act quickly.  
  
Struggling to get to his knees, it dawned on Dave that Alan wasn’t the only one in trouble here. Too much longer in the snow, and the _pair of them_  might not make it back to the studio. With that thought firmly in mind, he heaved himself to his knees, Alan still cradled protectively against his chest.  
  
“Come on Al, I need to get us indoors.”  
  
Dave tucked his arm under Alan’s knees, and taking a deep breath, hauled himself to his feet. He staggered under Alan’s weight, almost falling, but he quickly regained his balance, and glanced around trying to figure out which direction he needed to go in.  
  
He squinted against the biting wind. The snow had lessened somewhat, making it slightly easier to see. He spotted the red roof tiles and with another deep, painful breath, he started walking. One step at a time.  
  
Dave kept talking to Alan, reassuring himself, keeping himself calm as he tottered through the snow drifts, being buffeted on all sides by the howling wind.   
  
***   
  
“That’s it.” Martin stood up, knocking his chair backwards with unintended force. “I’m going out to look for them.”  
  
Andy sighed. “Mart...”  
  
“No Andrew.” Martin twirled round to face him, eyes glittering. “I’m not sitting here waiting any more. They’re in trouble. They  _need_ us.”  
  
“Martin we’ve been over this. Us going out there and getting ourselves lost isn’t going to help them.” Flood said, standing up and walking over to Martin. He laid a hand on his shoulder and tried to steer him towards the fireplace, and closer to Andy.  
  
Martin ducked under his grip and walked determinedly to the door. “Fuck that.”  
  
“Martin, please!”  
  
Grabbing his coat from the pile on the floor, Martin slipped his arms into the bulky sleeves and zipped it up. He reached into one of the pockets and pulled out his grey, woollen beanie hat. He tugged it down over his ears, and before Andy or Flood could reach him, he opened the door.  
  
***   
  
Dave looked up as light spilled over the snow in front of him, his vision blurry from exhaustion and confusion. He was so cold. So cold, and so tired. A voice somewhere in the back of his disorientated mind was telling him that he  _had_ to get into that light –to save himself, and more importantly, to save  _Alan_.  
  
He staggered forward again, barely managing to put one foot in front of the other. His breath was coming in strained gasps, the back of his throat burning from the effort of inhaling the freezing air. He stumbled to a halt again and looked down at Alan’s still form cradled protectively in his arms. _‘A few more steps, Dave,’_ he thought to himself, ‘Just a few more.’  
  
Dave took another step, knees trembling, threatening to send him tumbling back into the icy abyss waiting to swallow him up and never let him go.  
  
“Dave?”  
  
He blinked once, twice, and suddenly found himself laughing. “I’m hallucinating,” he chuckled, glancing down at Alan. “Hear that Charlie, I can hear Mart. Like Mart would be stupid enough to come out in this.”  
  
“Dave?!”   
  
There was Mart’s voice again, clear and strong. And  _close_. Dave lifted his head and looked around. “Mart?”  
  
“Andy, Flood, it’s Dave! And he’s got Alan!”  
  
Everything happened very quickly after that. Surrounded by his worried and relieved friends, Dave found himself bundled into the studio, Alan carefully removed from his grip and lain on the couch, which had been pushed as close to the fire as was safe. A duvet was draped around his shoulders, and Flood handed him a hot cup of tea.   
  
Dave sipped at it gratefully, and watched bewildered as Martin and Andy fussed over himself and Alan. He craned his neck to try see around them –they were bent over Alan, tucking masses of blankets around him, and settling hot water bottles near his frozen extremities.  
  
“Flood, chuck us that duvet, mate. His feet are still icy!” Andy called, moving out of the way just enough for Dave to catch a glimpse of Alan’s pale face.  
  
He stood up quietly, the blanket slipping from his shoulders unnoticed as he stepped closer to the couch where Alan was resting. Pushing past Martin, he knelt beside him, hand outstretched to push Alan’s fringe out of his eyes.   
  
Dave’s hand flinched as Alan suddenly shifted, his head seeming to tilt further into Dave’s caress. “Charlie?” he whispered, half holding his breath to see if Alan would wake. So intent was he on his unconscious friend, he didn’t notice the other three men fall silent and still, watching the two of them.  
  
“Charlie,” Dave brought his hand back to Alan’s face, stroking his fingers lightly over the icy skin. “Please wake up. Talk to me.”  
  
He didn’t care that his voice was trembling -it was quiet enough that the others probably couldn’t hear it anyway, and it didn’t matter that the tears were threatening to spill down his cheeks again. Nothing mattered except Alan.  
  
“ _Please_ Al...”  
  
Leaning forward, Dave rested his head on the cushion beneath Alan’s head, his cheek pressed lightly against Alan’s.   
  
Martin made to take a step towards them, and stopped. He turned to face Andy and looked questioningly at the restraining hand on his shoulder.  
  
“I think we should leave them be Mart.” He said softly, “They’ve been through a lot tonight, and if anyone can get through to Alan, Dave can.”  
  
“He’s right, there’s nothing more we can do here.” Flood added, glancing over at the couch.   
  
Martin’s brow furrowed slightly. “But Alan’s still unconscious. Shouldn’t we at least wait till he wakes up and make sure he’s ok?”  
  
Andy hesitated, he was right. Exchanging a glance with Flood, he nodded. “Yeah, you’re right Mart, we-”  
  
He turned his head sharply at the sound of Dave’s sudden gasp. “Dave? Everything ok?”  
  
Dave was staring at Alan, eyes wide with hope. He'd felt the fluttering of Alan's eyelashes on his cheek, the brush of his chapped lips as he'd struggled back to conscious thought. He knew he hadn't imagined it, Alan's soft, regular breaths indicating that he was now sleeping peacefully. Dave sighed with relief as he noted the gentle rise and fall of Alan's ribs under the duvet, the warm puffs of air from his previously frozen lips. Once a frightening shade of blue, Alan's lips were now a weak purple, indicating that at last, his body was beginning to reach a stable temperature.  
  
He held his breath as Alan shifted again, whimpering quietly. “Alan?”  
  
“Dave...”   
  
Andy breathed a sigh of relief, smiling widely at Martin and Flood. They looked as relieved as he felt. Wrapping his arms around Martin’s shoulders, he tugged him backwards into a hug. Martin had taken the night’s events the hardest after all; he’d seen everything play out before his eyes, from Alan’s breakdown in his room, to finding the two of them out in the snow.  
  
Resting his chin on Martin’s hair, he looked back over at the couch as he heard Dave speaking quietly to Alan, letting him know everything was going to be alright.  
  
“Dave,” Alan whined, tossing his head to the side slightly, still mostly asleep.  
  
“Yeah Al?” Dave smiled, smoothing Alan’s hair back again.  
  
Alan leaned into his touch, the corners of his mouth curling up. “Want pancakes.”  
  
Dave couldn’t help it. He laughed aloud, chuckling at Alan’s delirious demands. “Pancakes huh? Ok, I’ll see what I can do for you Charlie, but why don’t you try get some more sleep first hmm?”  
  
Alan hummed positively, settling back into the soft couch cushions. Dave tugged the many duvets up to his chin, and turned to look at the others, shaking his head in amusement.   
  
“Did you hear that? Bloody bastard wants pancakes! After everything he’s put us through tonight!”  
  
His indignant facade was ruined somewhat by the huge grin on his face.  
  
“Soon as you both warm up properly, I’ll make you a years supply of pancakes, how does that sound?” Andy chuckled, before his face turned stern. “I mean it Dave,  _you_ need to get warm too.”  
  
Dave nodded and grabbed his forgotten blanket from where it had fallen on the floor earlier, placing it around his shoulders.   
  
“Right. I’ll go stick the kettle on again.” Flood said, catching Andy’s eye.   
  
“Yeah, I’ll come give you a hand.” Andy replied. “Mart, you coming?”  
  
Nodding slowly, Martin turned to follow them into the kitchen, realising Dave and Alan’s need to be alone. Dave mouthed a ‘thank you’ to him, and he allowed a brilliant smile to creep over his face. As he walked through the door, he heard Alan start mumbling again, calling to Dave.  
  
“Dave..?”  
  
“Don’t worry, mate. We’re getting you your bloody pancakes.” Dave grinned, reaching under the blankets to take hold of Alan’s hand.  
  
He winced at it’s still freezing temperature. “Bloody hell Charlie, you’re still frozen!” Glancing around the room, he could think of only one thing to do. He stood up, reluctantly releasing Alan’s hand, and grabbed the beanbag from the corner. He dropped it on the floor directly in front of the fire, and moved back to the couch.  
  
“Hang on a sec Charlie, I’ll get you warm.”  
  
Dave quickly pulled the pile of blankets off Alan’s shivering form, and dumped them on the floor beside the beanbag. He turned back to Alan, and leant down, sliding his arms under Alan’s knees and shoulders as gently as he could. “Up you come, mate.”  
  
Bracing himself, Dave lifted Alan off the couch and walked the few steps closer to the fire. He lowered himself to his knees, and shuffled onto the beanbag, settling Alan down gently beside him. Grasping the abandoned duvets, he pulled them over their two bodies, and rested his arm around Alan’s abdomen.  
  
He lapsed into silence, feeling the warmth from the fire, and the blankets – _and Alan_ , seep into his body. He groaned silently to himself as he felt the feeling return to his toes, and closed his eyes, propping his head up in his hand.  
  
Dave had just drifted off to sleep, the hand resting on Alan’s stomach rubbing gentle circles on his skin, when he was jolted back to awareness at the sound of Alan’s groggy voice. “Dave?”  
  
He froze. “Sorry Charlie, I... I was just trying to warm you up.”  
  
Alan mumbled his name again, rolling over onto his back and pressing closer to Dave, obviously not fully awake yet. Smiling softly, Dave wriggled into a more comfortable position, lulled by Alan's warm breath against his own chapped lips. Yawning widely, Dave allowed his eyes to flutter shut once more, secure in the knowledge that Alan was lying right next to him, and that he was safe.   
  
He was almost asleep when he felt Alan shift, his damp hair tickling the side of his face. Immediately, Dave felt a lump rise in his throat at the realisation that Alan had tucked his head under Dave's chin, presumably craving the heat and comfort of another warm body. Vowing to stay in the exact same position all night if he had to, Dave tentatively lifted his hand, and wrapped it around Alan's cool shoulders.  
  
“Dave,” Alan murmured, making him jump. He raised his hand for a second before placing it softly back down, unwilling to let Alan go.  
  
“Yeah Charlie?” asked Dave softly.  
  
Alan began to mumble quietly, the words inaudible to Dave. “Charlie, mate, I can't hear you. Do you need anything? Are you comfortable enough?” Dave asked quickly, falling over his words in an attempt to discover what was wrong.  
  
Alan’s head lolled back for just a second, taking Dave by surprise. Alan's eyes were rolling back in his head, and he was smiling a wide, delirious smile. “Dave... love you,” he slurred, before burying his head in the crook of Dave's neck again.   
  
By the time Dave was able to form a coherent sentence, Alan was already snoring softly against his skin.  
  
***  
  



	5. Chapter 5

**Part 5**  
  
***  
  
‘ _He... Loves... Me?’_  
  
Dave had always thought Alan was like the moon: cool, distant, half unknown, and entirely inhospitable. To hear those words come from his mouth was unbelievable. To have them directed at  _Dave himself_... Well... That was downright ridiculous.  
  
By the time Dave picked his jaw up off the floor and regained the power of speech, Alan was deeply asleep, and Dave knew he wouldn’t be getting any answers to his questions anytime soon.  
  
 _‘Get a grip Dave, he’s delirious. Of course he didn’t mean it. He probably thought you were Jeri. Or Jason. There’s no way he loves you.’_  
  
Dave bit his lip and glanced down at the sleeping man in his arms. Alan looked so comfortable and peaceful there, but more than that, he looked like he belonged there.  
  
***   
  
“Fletch?”  
  
Martin rapped briefly on the door, and without waiting, pulled open the bathroom door. Steam billowed out of the room, and was shortly followed by a tall red head clad only in a small towel.  
  
“Alright Mart?” Andy asked, ignoring Martin’s sudden reluctance to look anywhere near him.  
  
Fighting down the flush that threatened to paint his cheeks, Martin tried to focus on the sunny yellow towel Andy was using to dry his hair. “Yeah. I think I heard Dave moving about downstairs. Wondered if you wanted to give me a hand making pancakes? Flood’s never made them, and you remember what happened last time Suz left me in charge in the kitchen.”  
  
Andy smiled, turning to toss the damp towel in the laundry basket. “Sure. Let me get dressed and I’ll be right down.”  
  
“Thanks Andy. I’m gonna go see if Al’s awake too, make sure he’s ok and all.” Martin replied, and with a quick wave, disappeared out the door and down the stairs.  
  
***   
  
Dave woke up several hours later with no recollection of having fallen asleep. Alan was still cradled protectively in his arms, face turned in towards his neck. He could feel Alan’s warm, steady breaths against his skin, and a small smile crept over his lips.  _‘He’s ok.’_  
  
Feeling something on his leg, Dave glanced down at his lap, and blinked. Sometime during the night, Alan had shifted closer to him, throwing his leg over Dave’s hip. Dave blushed furiously, aware of the connotations of being caught in such an intimate position.   
  
 _“Dave... love you.”_  
  
Remembering Alan’s delirious ramblings from a few hours before, their sleepy embrace suddenly took on a whole new meaning for Dave. He jerked away from Alan as if he’d been scalded. The movement only served to make Alan snuggle even closer, still deeply asleep.  
  
 _‘Crap,’_  Dave thought, stilling immediately.  _‘Now what do I do?’_  
  
He glanced down at Alan again, and hesitantly tightened his arm around Alan’s body where it lay draped across his shoulders. Dave froze as Alan mumbled something under his breath, but released a relieved breath a moment later when he didn’t wake.   
  
Dave heard the low hum of the shower being turned on upstairs.  _‘Fuck!’_  
Quicker now, he continued in his quest to extricate himself from Alan’s embrace. Gently slipping his hand down under the blanket that covered them, he found Alan’s knee and grabbed hold of it. As softly as he could, he lifted the heavy limb and slid his body out from underneath it, replacing it carefully on the beanbag.   
  
“Now for the hard part,” he quietly said to himself. Lifting his hand, he went to lightly take hold of Alan’s head, intending to try roll him over from his position, buried in Dave’s neck. Dave paused as his fingers gently brushed Alan’s cheek, shocked into stillness by the sudden lurch of his stomach at the unexpectedly soft skin.  
  
He swallowed hard and, still holding his breath, moved his hand to cup Alan’s jaw. Dave studied his face, taking in the thick eyelashes resting on elegant cheekbones, the nose that just wouldn’t look right on anyone other than Alan, the tiny beauty spot half-hidden on his chin. His eyes stopped on Alan’s mouth, warm air escaping from between his lips, and couldn’t stop his thumb from softly running over them.  
  
 _‘He’s beautiful._ ’ Dave realised, with a sharp intake of breath.  
  
His fingers moved gently over Alan’s skin, mapping his features, and pushed his fringe out of his eyes. Alan shifted suddenly, the tickle of his hair disturbing his sleep. Dave quickly removed his hand as Alan rolled away from him, settling on his back.  
  
Seizing his opportunity, Dave got to his knees, turning to tuck the duvet around Alan’s shoulders as he did so. He’d just finished with his task when he realised Alan’s eyes were half open and watching him.  
  
“Morning Al,” he said, smiling hesitantly. “Did you sleep alright?”  
  
Alan yawned widely and sat up. “Morning.” He said, stretching his arms and scratching his head. “Why are you in my room?”  
  
Chuckling, Dave raised an eyebrow at him. “I wasn’t aware you’d laid claim to the living room, Al.”  
  
“Huh?” Alan frowned, noticing where he was for the first time. “What are we doing down here?” He threw a sharp look at Dave. “Did we drink  _that_ much last night?”  
  
Dave blinked and then grinned. It’d take a lot of alcohol to have  _that_ much of an effect on Alan. His smile faded as he wondered anew about Alan’s unusual behaviour the night before. But before he could give voice to his questions, the sound of swiftly approaching footsteps reached his ears.  
  
“Al, you’re awake!”  
  
They both looked up as Martin burst into the room, a wide smile lighting up his face. “How are you feeling?”  
  
“Yeah, I’m ok.” Alan replied, looking from Dave to Martin with confused eyes. “What’s going o- Oh.” His face paled as he remembered the events of the night before. Jumbled images of furniture being overturned, and snow – _Dave_ -and an overwhelming feeling of coldness, assaulted his mind in one swift swoop. “Oh.”  
  
“Charlie?” Dave asked, laying a concerned hand on Alan’s shoulder. “Everything alright, mate?”  
  
“Wha? Yeah, yeah, it’s fine. I was just...” Alan trailed off and looked away, uncomfortable with the concerned and understanding looks his friends were giving him.  
  
“Hey.” Dave tightened his grip on Alan’s shoulder, and leaned in closer, guessing correctly what was bothering Alan. “Don’t worry about it Charlie.”  
  
Alan shot him a grateful smile, but the hint of embarrassment and shame in his eyes didn’t fade.  
  
Glancing between the two of them, Martin decided to try lighten the mood. “Hey Charlie? As soon as Andy comes down, he’s going to help me make your pancakes, ok? Do you prefer blueberry or chocolate chip?”  
  
“Pancakes?” Alan asked, with a small frown of bewilderment. “But I don’t like pancakes.”  
  
Martin’s face fell. “But... but you  _asked_ for them!”  
  
“ _Asked_ for them?” Alan repeated, his confusion growing. “When?”  
  
“Last night,” Dave replied, “After we got you inside.”  
  
He was met with a blank look. Clearly, Alan didn’t remember anything that had happened after Dave had found him lying unconscious in the snow. Not even... He didn’t know why, but a jolt of disappointment hit Dave hard.  
  
Swallowing the lump in his throat, Dave quickly stood up. “Don’t worry about the pancakes Al, I’m sure Mart won’t mind making you something else. Right Mart?”   
  
“Of course.”  
  
“Right then, I’ll just go and get Andy to give you a hand, and eh... I’ll be back in a bit.” Dave turned and practically bolted from the room. He’d  _needed_ to get out of there, felt like he couldn’t breathe!  
  
He stopped when he got to the stairs, leaning heavily against the wall. Running his hands through his hair, he groaned quietly. “What the fuck is wrong with me?”  
  
Hearing footsteps on the stairs behind him, he turned to find Andy and Flood. “Ah there you are!” He exclaimed, trying to sound normal. “Eh, change of plan, Alan doesn’t want pancakes-”  
  
“He  _doesn’t_ want pancakes?” Andy repeated, raising an eyebrow.  
  
“No, he doesn’t actually like them. Must’ve been the delirium talking.” Dave said, with a forced laugh. “Anyway, Mart’s waiting for you to give him a hand. Flood, would you mind keeping an eye on Al?”  
  
“Sure.” Flood replied, “But why aren’t you in there with him?”  
  
“Me? Oh, I... I thought I’d go give his room a bit of a tidy, so he can get some proper rest in bed.” Dave rambled, plastering a patently false grin on his face.  
  
Taking pity on him, Andy nodded. “That’s a good idea Dave. It’s fairly a state in there.”  
  
“Yeah... So, I’ll... just go do that then.”  
  
Andy and Flood watched bemused as Dave clambered up the stairs and out of sight. Catching each other’s eye, they shared a laugh, and continued down the stairs.  
  
***   
  
“That was great lads. Cheers.” Alan said, wiping his mouth. Andy and Martin had raided the larder and come up with a full English breakfast, complete with hash browns, fried mushrooms and of course, baked beans. They’d even managed to dig up some vegetarian sausages for him.  
  
“No problem Al.” Andy smiled, collecting the empty plates, and taking them into the kitchen. “Fancy another cuppa anyone?” he called.  
  
“Ooh yes please, “ Flood said, “Just half a cup though, I want to head down to the mixing room.” Turning to Martin and Alan, he whispered. “I’d better go supervise. The man may know how to cook, but I wouldn’t trust him with brewing a decent cuppa to save my life.”  
  
Alan laughed as Martin threw a cushion at Flood as he left the room, in defence of his best mate. “Cheeky bastard.”  
  
Martin turned back to him, and Alan apprehensively noticed the questioning gleam in his eye. “Al? What happened last ni-”  
  
“Oi Mart!”  
  
Alan sighed with relief as Martin was interrupted by Andy’s shout. He wasn’t ready to talk about that yet.  
  
“I’m not doing all the bloody dishes on my own. Come gimme a hand you lazy sod!”  
  
“Alright, alright, I’m coming.” Martin rolled his eyes at Alan and got up from the couch. “You’d think I was married to him the way he’s goes on.”  
  
“You’d better hurry then, Mrs. Fletcher. Before he revokes bedroom privileges.” Alan chuckled. He ducked as Martin threatened to whack him with another pillow.   
  
“Watch yourself Wilder. I’m not above smothering you with this you know.” He chuckled.   
  
Dave suddenly appeared in the doorway and, while he smiled and laid a friendly hand on Martin’s shoulder as he left, Alan could see the tightness in his jaw, and the hard look in his eyes as he looked directly at him.  
  
“Dave? Everything alr-” Alan asked in concern.  
  
Cutting him off, Dave replied shortly. “I finished cleaning up your room. You should probably get into bed, you still need to rest.”  
  
“Ok?” Alan said, frowning slightly. “Dave-”  
  
“Do you need some help getting up the stairs?”  
  
Biting his lip in frustration, Alan simply nodded and allowed Dave to lift his arm over his shoulders. They moved slowly –carefully, and by the time they reached his room, Alan was exhausted. He flopped gratefully onto the bed, groaning quietly in relief.  
  
The door clicked closed and Alan looked up, half expecting Dave to have left. Instead he found his friend leaning against the wall, head bowed. Pulling himself into a sitting position, Alan reached out a hand to him. “Dave?” He asked softly, “What’s wrong?”  
  
It seemed to take an age before Dave took a deep breath and met his gaze. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, brown plastic container. Its contents rattled against each other as Dave shifted it between his hands. Alan’s mouth went dry.  
  
“You gonna tell me what these are Al?”  
  
“Dave...” Alan swallowed dryly and trailed off, not sure how to explain.  
  
Dave closed his eyes, and when he finally opened them again, Alan was shocked at the raw emotion he saw in them.  
  
“Don’t lie to me Charlie. Don’t say you’re fine. Please. I know something’s going on with you –we  _all_ do, but I can’t...  _help_ you unless you tell me what it is.” He pleaded, coming to sit on the edge of the bed beside Alan. “ _Please_ Charlie.”  
  
“Dave, I don’t... I don’t know what to say or... Anything. Fuck it.” Alan desperately ran his hands through his hair, anxiety welling up in his chest.  
  
“Just tell me what’s going on Charlie. I won’t tell the others if that’s what you’re worried about. It’ll just be between us, yeah?”  
  
“I can’t... I  _can’t_!” Alan’s voice rose higher and higher, his breathing quickening. He buried his head in his hands, struggling for breath.  
  
Dave stared in shock as his friend started to hyperventilate. He’d never seen Alan so out of control before. If he was honest with himself, the sight scared him.  
  
Spurring himself into action, Dave grabbed Alan’s hands, holding them tightly in his own as they shook. “Al. Al, calm down mate. You need to stop panicking, ok? I’m here, and I’m not letting go of you. Not ever, you hear me? As long as you need me, I’m here, so just relax. Take a deep breath.”  
  
Dave watched with wide eyes as Alan’s breathing gradually slowed, signalling his panic attack was ending. “You’re alright Charlie. You’re ok.”  
  
Alan shook his head, the movement so small Dave would have missed it had he not been watching for the slightest reaction from his friend. Alan’s voice, when it came, was even smaller. “I’m not ok, Dave. I haven’t been ok in...” he chuffed a disbelieving laugh as he lifted his head to meet Dave’s eyes. “I don’t think I’ve  _ever_ been ok.”  
  
When Dave finally looked at him, Alan was shocked to see guilt in his eyes. “Dave? What’s wrong?” he asked, confused at Dave’s reaction.  
  
“Fuck Alan, you’re telling me you’ve been hurting all these years and I didn’t even  _notice_?” Dave whispered brokenly. “What kind of friend would do that?”  
  
Alan was shaking his head before Dave even finished speaking. “No. No, Dave... God, it’s not  _your_ fault. This started long before I joined the band. You could never have been expected to notice something was wrong, when I’ve been putting on this act since before we met. How could you have seen a difference? It’s  _my_ fault, Dave, not yours.”  
  
“Eight years, Charlie. Eight years and you couldn’t tell me something was wrong? You couldn’t trust me?” Dave looked down at his feet. “I must have done  _something_ wrong.”  
  
Alan bit his lip. He didn’t want to tell Dave –didn’t want to tell  _anyone_ , but he couldn’t let Dave think he was to blame for Alan’s reticence. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Dave, far from it, but this was different. This was something he’d been dealing with for most of his life. He was ashamed of it,  _embarrassed_. He was supposed to be stronger than this.  
  
He was dragged from his thoughts by Dave standing up and walking to the door.   
  
Placing the brown jar on the table, Dave reached for the door handle.   
  
 _‘I can’t let him leave. Not like this. Not thinking I don’t trust him!’_  Alan thought desperately.  
  
“They’re lithium tablets.”  
  
Dave stopped at his sudden outburst and turned round to face him again. There was a small frown creasing his forehead. “Lithium tablets?”  
  
“Yeah.”   
  
Noticing the light flush on Alan’s cheeks, Dave closed the door again, and came back to sit beside him on the bed. “What are they for?” he asked quietly.  
  
“I have manic depressive disorder.” He said in a quiet voice, not able to meet Dave’s eyes. He continued, his hand fiddling with a small tear in the duvet. “I was in hospital a few times when I was about 17, 18. Doctor put me on these about 11 years ago, a couple of months before I joined the band actually, and I’ve been pretty much fine on them up until...”  
  
Alan trailed off again, shaking his head. He couldn’t believe he’d just  _told_ Dave. He’d been keeping this secret his whole life, but for some inexplicable reason, he thought Dave had  _deserved_ to know.  _Dave_ had been the one to come after him the night before, the one to _risk his life_  trying to save Alan, and looking down as Dave’s fingers gently entwined with his own, Alan realised he was right. Dave  _did_ deserve to know, and more than that, Alan  _wanted_ him to know. Everything.  
  
“Until?” Dave coaxed, “Did they stop working?”  
  
Alan smiled wryly. “No. I stopped taking them.”  
  
“Why?! What would possess you to stop taking them?” Dave asked, confusion and disbelief colouring his voice.  
  
“You’ll think I’m so stupid. It  _is_ stupid.” Alan chuckled, his tone decidedly self-mocking.  
  
“Hey.”   
  
Alan looked up as Dave gently nudged him with his shoulder, minutely tightening his grip on Alan’s hand.  
  
“I think you’re stupid anyway.” Dave said with a sly grin, hoping and succeeding in making Alan smile. “Try me.”  
  
“I don’t even know where to start Dave,” Alan whispered, his face suddenly falling.  
  
“I’ve heard the beginning is usually the best place to start.” Dave said with an encouraging smile.  
  
“And where’s that Dave?” Alan asked, turning increasingly frantic eyes on his friend. He raised his hand to his chest, fist clenching repeatedly at his shirt as he found it harder and harder to catch his breath.  
  
“Whoa, there Al. Slow down mate.” Dave laid a comforting hand on his arm, realising that Alan was on the brink of another panic attack. “Just take a deep breath. You’re ok, remember?”  
  
Shaking his head desperately, Alan lurched to his feet. He quickly stumbled to his dresser –which had survived his attack the previous night -and tugged open the topmost drawer, grabbing another small brown vial. Pulling off the lid, he tipped its contents into his palm. Dave caught sight of a flash of blue as Alan raised his hand to his lips and tossed the pills into his mouth.   
  
Without a word Alan returned to the bed and sat down, leaning back against the headboard and drawing his knees up to his chest. He handed the now empty bottle to Dave, and silently nodded to him to read the label.   
  
“Lorazepam?”  
  
“They’re for the panic attacks,” Alan replied tonelessly, “Sedatives.”  
  
Dave frowned and glanced back down at the label. “And they’re ok to be taken with the lithium?”  
  
“Yes. Doctor prescribed them.”  
  
They lapsed into silence, Alan closing his eyes and waiting for the sedative to take effect.  
  
“Didn’t Fletch used to take these?” Dave asked after a while. “In Berlin that one time, remember? He started talking to the mixing desk.”  
  
Nodding, Alan looked at him with slightly glazed eyes and a dazed smile. “Yeah, they do you make you go a bit loopy...”  
  
“Al...”  
  
“Just... just give me a minute, Dave.” Alan said, shooting him a pleading look. “Please?”  
  
Dave smiled and reached for his hand again. “Whenever you’re ready, Charlie.”  
  
***

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry I never got around to finishing this. I enjoyed writing it a lot, or I did until it started hitting a little too close to home and I had to stop for my own good. If anybody would like to adopt and finish it, let me know.


End file.
